


Search and Seizure

by aradae



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Altmer - Freeform, F/M, Markarth, Skyrim References, Thalmor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22825912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aradae/pseuds/aradae
Summary: Ondolemar feels himself being searched and seized while attempting to discuss the issue of Talos worship with his associates.
Relationships: Ondolemar (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Search and Seizure

**Author's Note:**

> This scenario has been written, without a doubt, 1,000 times over in other universes. Figured it was my turn.

Meanwhile in Markarth...

Two thalmor agents were waiting in his office when he arrived. Ondolemar paced around a stone desk and comfortably adjusted himself in his seat, greeting them with a nod.

"Estormo, Eraantor. I have summoned you two to discuss the ongoing issue of Ogmund-" he began before cutting off. Surprise, worry, and dismay played across his face before he reassumed his composure. Ondolemar shifted in his seat again and pretended to clear his throat. Estormo's eyebrow raised at the sound of stirring under the desk.

"Justiciar?" he questioned.

Ondolemar picked up where he left off, ignoring his inquiry. "The Jarl has granted us allowance to investigate under the condition that we prove his worship of Talos without...an...aggressive...uh, approhhh-. Approach." His words were strained towards the end. He inhaled a chest full of air and sighed slowly. The two agents eyed him with only a brief concern before Estormo interjected to keep the discussion flowing.

"Without an aggressive approach? Would the Jarl have us ask him politely to turn himself in? We have our charge, according to the White-Gold con-!"

Ondolemar raised a hand to silence him. "I understand our duty. We are not to approach him or interrupt his daily routine lest we risk some unsavory backlash. Markarth is old and lingers on the...ohhh gods. Ways! On the old ways.." He winced and his eyelids fluttered as a feeling of pleasure washed over him. "With the recent attacks, being does put our lives at risk with or without the Jarl's protection. But I have found someone unknown to the city that is willing to assist...ahhh-us." His expression grew distressed.

Eraantur raised an eyebrow. "Sir, are you well?"  
His two agents watched him curiously as he focused on slow, long breaths. Estormo was growing impatient.

"No one would dare lay a hand on the thalmor within the city," Estormo stated firmly. "I did not think you feared these nords, much less those primitive wildings."

Ondolemar laughed, unable to compose himself properly. "They certainly would. Our agents are vanishing in the wilds as we speak and with these so-called Forsworn attacking within the city, not to mention the Silver-bloods, we'd be safer skulking in the grey quarters right under Ulfric's nose. However, if..." He paused and wiped the perspiration from his blushing face, taking a moment to breathe again.

"If...?" Estormo urged him to continue. Eraantur began to catch on and struggled to conceal his own amusement. Estormo shot them both cold glances. "IF...!?" His voice was hard as stone.

Ondolemar felt all jurisdiction slipping from his grasp. He shifted in his seat and sat up straight, looking to both of his agents and nodding. "Forgive me. Something seems to have gotten a hold of me," he spoke apologetically. Eraantur blew a humored gust of air through his nose, this time catching Estormo's attention who now eyed them both carefully, his expression serious.

"If..." Ondolemar continued once more, focusing his attention on Estormo, "She succeeds in acquiring his amulet, she may be able to assist us with these aforementioned issues. Her skills in discretion , ahhh, are yet unmatched. By the eight..." He rubbed the bridge of his nose and began to mumble incoherently to himself.

"She?" Eraantur asked curiously. His mouth curved into a knowing smirk that only Ondolemar seemed to notice. 

Ondolemar nodded and tilted his head towards the ceiling. He couldn't keep this up any longer. "I seem to not be as well as I had presumed," he said after a few more deep, slow breaths. "Estormo has urgent business in Winterhold, but I will speak with you soon, Eraantur. You both may go."

Estormo nodded, not bothering to hide his displeasure. "Insightful discussion, Ondolemar. I pray you, just send a courier next time," he groused before quickly exiting the room.

Eraantur lingered a moment, eyeing the Justiciar carefully. "When will we meet her?" he asked, still smirking. 

"I had hoped to arrange that today, but something came...up. Oh gods. Just leave...now!" His voice shook as he violently gestured towards the door. Eraantur quickly obeyed. As soon as the door shut, Ondolemar threw himself back against his seat and finally let out a loud, unbridled moan. Feminine laughter erupted from under the table as he slumped back down into his seat, completely drained. After catching his breath, his fingers tangled through a web of thick black hair and yanked a young dunmer girl out from between his legs.

"What did I tell you about touching my locks!?" he growled with embarrassment. 

Her red eyes sparkled playfully, unbothered by his aggression. "Oh...locks. Is that what you said? I must have misheard," she teased.. 

He was angry now, but could not deny that he enjoyed her little games. "Keep this up and I'll send you back to the slums of Windhelm. I mean it, Mevela. You made an absolute fool out of me. It won't happen again." He released her hair and stood up, readjusting the mess she had made of his clothes. 

The dunmer faked a pout before crawling to her feet and stretching out her limbs. "You know, I have something else you might enjoy," she purred into his ear. He waved her away and continued to clean himself off.

"I think I've had enough of your surprise gifts. Besides, you aren't exactly changing anyone's ideas about you with that sort of behavior." 

Mevela's eyes narrowed as the playfulness fled from them. "Fine," she said coldly. "Find someone else to suck your cock. And here-" She tossed an amulet onto his desk. "I'd tell you where you can stick that, but you don't seem to appreciate a bit of pleasure." Before he could inquire about it, she had stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her. The only time Mevela was not discreet was when she had clearly been scorned. He could hear her dramatic exit echoing through the stone walls of the Understone Keep and the scurrying of guards who, familiar with her fits, followed to make sure nothing was left broken behind her. Ondolemar sighed and lifted the amulet, looking it over. Ogmund's name was inscribed clearly on one side following the words, "may he guide you," in intricate writing. While it appeared to be a gift, it was recognizably an amulet of Talos and more than enough to have Ogmund himself seized and questioned. 

"That whore-of-a-mer actually did it," Ondolemar whispered excitedly to himself. For a moment he regretted running Mevela off so quickly, but without her constant distractions, he could hurry the investigation along. He pocketed the amulet but hesitated to leave. The dunmer had nearly sucked the life out of him and a nap was first in order.

**Author's Note:**

> Mevela is actually a side character in the multi-chapter story I'm working on, but I cannot seem to get the chapters complete without getting distracted by another idea, much less so in a sensible order to post them.


End file.
